


lessons from victor

by apurochi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, kind of ooc I guess?, that boy's got an anxiety disorder, yuri is definitely angrier than he needs to be but let's be real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 14:04:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8404486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apurochi/pseuds/apurochi
Summary: it was never an outright denial, but when I saw him perform it was like my mind created a barrier between myself and my heartbeat as it intensified when I looked at his face, his lips, his hair. the reverence I have for victor translates out of the rink and into his sheets, but it doesn't prepare me for the hollowness I feel there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hey I almost named this after a cover of a taylor swift song that's stuck in my head so like whatever. say u'll remember meeee
> 
> I've been reading wolf in white van, also. it's not about sex or anything so I don't wanna associate john darnielle w my Fuck Writing but I feel like it inspired the tone a lot. it's a good book

often I wonder if victor actually loved me all along, if he treats me the way he does and just doesn't admit it. I know it's mostly a hopeless bargain with myself, desperately trying to make sense of how he leans into me in bed and whispers how good it feels to spend the night together. I bare myself in front of him, I try to be serious and he retorts with jokes about becoming my boyfriend and I pretend to reject him the best that I can. he doesn't actually mean it, but he still fucks me and I feel small after the swelling in my heart subsides.

it's one thing to fuck someone who doesn't love you, but to feel them inside you is something different, I think. maybe I'm just overly sentimental because this is my first time doing any of this stuff. maybe it really just is my virginal mind putting stock in something meaningless and physical and the roles don't really matter much at all. the reverence I have for victor translates out of the rink and into his sheets, but it doesn't prepare me for the hollowness I feel there.

he brings up romantic love a lot, says he draws his inspiration from it, but I only understand the longing. it took me a while of thinking about it; in my haste to imitate him and absorb everything I could, I only really told myself I hadn't experienced what he had. now I recognize at least a part of it. it was never an outright denial, but when I saw him perform it was like my mind created a barrier between myself and my heartbeat as it intensified when I looked at his face, his lips, his hair. it was almost too easy to have them in front of me now, tangled in my fingers or crushed against my lips. he doesn't hold back.

...

"can I try putting it in?" I ask him one night, and he smiles his careless smile and goes "by all means, be my guest," as if this is purely for fun and I know it is. I can see it in his eyes.

I never really thought about whether he would let me do it to him, so I never asked. I think I just assumed that's the way it was and that he belonged inside of me and that was our bond and that was the end. he's had thousand of men and women all over the world, so I'm sure nothing surprises him. he tells me that he hasn't done this in a while and I wonder how long a while is for victor. a month, a year. three days.

he gets himself ready, palms himself while spreading himself open for me, looking at me but still past me somehow, lost in a daze. victor motions at the lube and I hand it to him silently, not wanting to tear my eyes away from him, always hard and flushed with pleasure, always wanting, always willing. I watch him squirt the viscous liquid, I watch it drip over his fingers and onto the bed. I watch his fingers coat the inside of his ass with shiny liquid and it's almost repulsive in its lewdness, but it doesn't discourage me. there are a lot of things I've learned about sex in my crash courses with victor, and the nervousness in me turned into lust after it got used to sex being hideous and messy. I watch his parted lips, his penis, erect and neglected in favor of opening the gates for me with both his hands and I scoot closer and position myself to strike. still unsure, still convinced somewhere deep down that I'm really not allowed to do this.

he flips over, and his insides welcome me in. it feels warm in the way of a distant memory of things I'd wondered about before I threw myself into skating, unknowingly preparing myself for this moment I pretended not to want. he says it feels good and asks me what it's like, in that way of his that demands your attention even though you've been absorbed in him for years. maybe it was just me. I say it's good, and he tells me I can move. I go slowly at first, not really knowing what else to do, and he groans with the effort I've come to recognize of adjusting to something foreign inside of you, making the pain and discomfort into something of your own until you convince yourself it belongs there. I fuck him, and he begs me to go faster. as I pick up the pace, I harness a frustration I didn't know I was building and eventually I'm slamming into him, open and slick, and victor is screaming yes, yes, yuri it's good, muffling himself with the pillow and I don't even know how to look at him, desperate but full, grinding his cock against the mattress in an attempt to squeeze the most he can out of this. I hear him say to come in his ass and I do, out of spite. I fill him up and it leaks out of him when I pull out. the orgasm feels good, but it's nothing compared to the satisfied face that turns to me and pulls away from the pillow. I get angry that I haven't been the only one to see him like this and I get angry that there is no resolution, he still owns me the same way he always has, no matter who's under who. somehow victor is always inside me.

he kisses my cheek, then kisses my lips, and he says I can spend the night with him in his bed if I want, like I did when I was too tired and confused from learning the ropes, but I say thank you and I say good night instead, and steal away into my own room and my own sheets, pretending he was never really here, that we never really met.


End file.
